Insanity and Ingenuity
by Wulfclan
Summary: What happens when Edmund gets fed up with women seeking Peter's hand? How about when Lucy begins to scheme against Susan's suitors?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: The Pevensies, of course, do not belong to me. However, I am greatly pleased to say that I do own Miss Mohida, and can, as such, yank her around on a chain twelve feet long. Ahh, the joys of being an author!**

Chapter One: Of Aching Rears and Sues

Edmund closed his eyes and leaned his head back on the throne with a sigh. His rear hurt from sitting in the same position for too long, and he had the feeling that it would soon fall asleep. Having his rear fall asleep two hours before suppertime was not something the young king particularly relished. Not that anyone does, as I'm sure you well know if you've ever experienced it.

Edmund wondered vaguely at the time, and also at where his older brother and sister had gone. Well, he knew where they had _said _they were going: Peter, after _hem_ing and _hah_ing for awhile, had gotten bored and muttered something about having to use the lavatory. Before Edmund could protest, Susan had jumped at the opportunity and declared that she desperately needed to make sure the dwarves were properly oiling her bowstring. _As if dwarves don't know how to 'properly oil' a bowstring, _Edmund grumbled to himself. As for Lucy, he couldn't very well grumble about her. After all, she had a report on the uses of herbs to finish by five o'clock, and that _had_ to be boring. But Edmund grumbled anyway.

No one was around, which made it all the more boring since that meant no one to talk to. With no chance of escape, at least until supper, Edmund took a quick, nervous look around and settled his head on the back of the throne, ready for a little doze.

Five minutes passed in which he was undisturbed. His nostrils took in the smell of the fresh spring air coming in through the wide open windows, the distant smell of the honeysuckle vine beside Susan's throne, and the ever-pervasive odor of Lucy's pet rabbit. A dumb rabbit, of course; a Narnian would never dream of caging a Talking Beast. The smells were all very familiar ones, smells that he had known for so long that he hardly noticed them anymore.

But then came another smell. A very strong smell. A smell that he certainly noticed, and one that overrode all of the other smells. Edmund coughed, kicking his legs out before him, and sat up with his crown slipping down over one ear. To bundle it up into one phrase, he looked quite unkingly.

In contrast, however, the woman from whom the scent came looked every bit the pompous princess. Her fine little nose was wrinkled just enough to remind Edmund of his sister's rabbit, her scornful eyes narrowed into black beads like a badger. "Pardon me," she said coldly. "I seek an audience with the High King Peter."

"Well you needn't drool over the title!" Edmund responded, but only mentally. Aloud, however, he stumbled, "You weren't announced."

The lady drew herself up—Edmund prepared himself for a speech—and retorted, "I am Delphina Amarilla Mohida, and I _do not need to be announced!_"

Edmund blinked. "Excuse me, but is that honestly your name?"

"You are not excused, now I would like to see the High King."

Edmund straightened himself out of his haphazard position and cleared his throat officially. "Well, I'm afraid my royal brother is not available at present…"

"Oh, that's quite alright. I can talk to him tonight at supper, I suppose?"

"Tonight? Supper?" Edmund looked blank.

"Well, I assume you intend to ask me to stay the night." Lady Delphina looked irritated and aghast. "You don't expect me to leave at this time of the afternoon; I'd never reach home before night fell."

Seeing as this was true, Edmund felt it would never do for someone with the title of 'The Just' to send a lady away. "Of course. My royal sister will be in any moment to take you to your chamber, if it would please you to wait."

Waiting did not seem to bother Lady Delphina, and she stepped daintily—if tripping twice over one's skirt can be called dainty—over to Lucy's throne and sat down in it. Edmund's wince either went unnoticed or was ignored. Presently she noticed the rabbit in its cage and let out a little squeal. "Oh, what an _adorable _bunny rabbit!" she cried. "May I hold it?"

Edmund paused in the midst of rubbing his fingers over one temple and looked over at the soft and cuddly rabbit. The wheels in his head began to turn. "Of course," he said quite graciously.

Lady Delphina swept up Susan's veil from a nearby table and spread it across her lap before lifting the rabbit onto it, explaining that she didn't want to get fur all over her skirt. Edmund inhaled his own protest and instead gave something akin to a gurgle. The next few minutes were filled with mindless cooing and agonized, if half-muffled, groans. It all went alright until Lady Delphina began to scratch the animal's chin—but of course _Edmund _could never have known that was where the beast least liked being scratched!—and it decided her finger looked like a slightly pink carrot. The young lady's scream reached to high heaven.


	2. Chapter 2

Aching Rears and Sues

**Claimer: Mwahahahahaha, I own Prince Falan Veslar! He's all mine, to throw around as I will. Hee hee hee! Silverdon the Unicorn is also my creation. And if you really want to know the **Disclaimers, **look back at Chapter 1 again. I find **Disclaimers **to be depressing. **

Chapter Two: Fallacious Falan.

Lucy flung down her quill and let out a tremendous, relieved sigh. It left a large stain of ink on the finished paper, but the young queen wasn't around to notice. The moment the last punctuation point was done, she rushed out of her chamber and down into the gardens adjoining the main courtyard. She found Susan there, walking slowly down one of the stone-paved paths and taking an inordinately long amount of time to smell each of the flowers. Her blue skirt trailed out behind her, and Lucy thought briefly of stepping on it as she came up behind her sister. But two months ago, upon passing her fifteenth year, Lucy had been told that she could no longer indulge in such childish pleasures and pranks as she once had. So she tucked the delicious thought away in her 'For Later' file and said instead, "Greetings, sister."

Susan looked up from smelling an indigo primrose and returned the greeting before asking, "Has the report been finished?"

Lucy nodded, grimacing slightly as she pushed back her blue silk veil in order to see Susan better. "Yes, it is done now. But did you know that this," she pointed to an herb growing in the nearby rock garden, "can be used to cure bladder problems?"

Susan emitted a horrified gasp. "Lucy!" she cried, forgetting for a moment her sister's royal title. "By the Lion, you did not put that in your report, did you?"

Lucy was saved from an awkward discussion by the appearance of a large band of horsemen that came charging suddenly into the courtyard. The foremost rider was a young man greatly bejeweled and overly dressed, followed by trumpeters, bodyguards, a young woman who seemed to be his sister, and a cage on wheels that contained two greyhounds. Most likely the young man was a prince—or someone claiming to be a prince—from a remote country who had come to seek Queen Susan's hand in marriage. _Faugh, not another! _Lucy thought to herself. _Will they never learn? _She turned to her sister, but found that Susan had conveniently withdrawn. The young queen chuckled to herself.

"Little girl! I am Falan Veslar, come to seek the fair hand of Queen Susan the Ever-Gentle in marriage. Tell me, when may I have an audience with the lady?"

Lucy drew herself up to her full four-feet-nine-inches and replied coldly, "First of all, my good sir, I am _not _a little girl. I am Queen Lucy the Valiant, sister of the High King Peter and also of the queen of which you so admiringly speak." _Hmm, not bad. That ought to impress him. _

Stunned might have been a better word to use to describe Prince Falan's reaction. "Forgive me, my lady," he amended penitently. "I am truly sorry; if I might show how grieved I am over this mistake…"

"You are pardoned," Lucy said hastily. "Now, as for the audience. If his royal personage is not _too_ overcome with the _burdens_of state," she paused to stress the point, "I am sure he will deign to see you. Speak you to the guard at the door there, and your message shall be taken to the High King as soon as is convenient for him." Leaving a flabbergasted Prince Falan standing with his entourage, Lucy swept off grandly.

As the young queen walked over the castle grounds, she counted off how many suitors had come and gone during the past month. "Stars above!" she cried aloud after having reached the eighth. She shook her head as she absentmindedly fingered the moss growing up the stones of the kitchen wall, enjoying the plush-soft feel of it. "It's time I took matters into my own hands," she decided. "Susan will thank me. Well, maybe in time she'll learn to forgive me, at least. It's for her own good, and that's what really matters."

"Lucy!"

Lucy looked up at the urgently hissed voice and saw Susan leaning cautiously out a doorway. The young queen laughed merrily. "The coast is clear, sister."

Susan stepped gingerly into the sunlight and dusted off her skirt. "Ugh, look at the layers of dust!" she exclaimed. "Who is that man, any road?"

"He says he is Prince Falan Veslar," Lucy informed her, exaggerating the masculine tone of voice. "With-nine-hundred-slaves-on-five-thousand-acres-of-land-who-tend-eighty-peach-trees-and-sixty-horses. Really, though, I think he's just a noble from Calormen who likes to make himself believe he's a prince."

"You sent him away, I hope?"

Lucy looked aghast. "And just how should I accomplish that, might I ask? Tell him he's got the wrong Cair Paravel? Lion's Mane, sister, you know I couldn't do that."

Susan muttered something under her breath as the two walked down the path, pausing occasionally to watch a sword-fight going on, or to see someone picking fruit from the apple trees in the orchard. The sisters were quiet for a long time, and when the silence was broken, it was by both at once.

"Don't you think—" Lucy began hesitantly, but was overruled by Susan, who had begun to speak at the same time.

"Perhaps I should move the Mice out of the way for a little while. The last suitor was frightened into fits by them, do you remember? We had to call Silverdon the Unicorn from Lantern Waste to heal him. I'm sorry, Lu: what were you saying?"

Lucy, who had been going to say, "Wouldn't it be funny if we frightened a suitor out of his pants?" decided against it and instead finished with a simple, "That's what I was thinking."


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: Do I have to say this again? Peter and Edmund are, of course, not mine. Forme, the Unfortunate Bird, and all mentioned Gary Stus and Mary Sues belong to me.**

Interlude:

Peter rubbed his temples as he came out of the meeting room after talking with Lady Delphina of the Sore Finger. His head throbbed from her perfume. His eyes hurt from his constantly forcing them open. His fist ached to come into contact with Edmund's nose.

Passing a cheetah in the hallway, the High King paused to ask if the noble creature had seen King Edmund recently. The cheetah nodded its head towards the library door and replied that he thought the younger king was in there. Peter nodded curtly and stormed into the library.

Edmund looked up from the window-seat, surprised at first by the abrupt entrance. Upon seeing his brother's murderous expression, Edmund knew he was in trouble. Big trouble. All that the High King needed was a handful of thunderbolts to complete the image of Jove. "Hullo, brother," Edmund greeted him, assuming a smile of enormous proportions. "My, aren't we looking…er…chipper."

"My head hurts," Peter growled. "That woman wears so much perfume it made a bird on the tree outside faint dead away. She spent an hour just giving me her full name and lineage. And what," he thundered, "are you laughing about?"

Edmund recovered himself and cleared his throat. "I wasn't."

"You are cruel. You have no idea what agony I've suffered."

"Wait just a moment, brother-king! I was forced to keep her at bay while you were (and I quote) 'indisposed'. Where were you, any road?"

"Checking on Rhindon; Forme the Centaur was repairing it for me. What were you doing in the hall alone?"

Edmund tossed aside his book in an irritated gesture and replied snappishly, "I was still waiting for the embassy from the Lone Islands, like the just king that I am, because a certain brother of mine did not find it good to inform me that they have delayed their meeting until next month due to bad weather."

Peter reddened slightly and muttered, "I apologize for that, Ed. It slipped my mind."

Edmund gave a small laugh through his nose. "Well that was obvious."

Peter ignored the comment and changed the subject. "We have two other visitors as well; Prince Falan and his sister Vindora, from Calormen. Prince Falan has come to seek…"

"…Susan's hand in marriage," Edmund finished. He'd heard it all before. "And I expect his sister is after you."

"I hope not," Peter laughed nervously. "That would make for an awkward visit: Lady Delphina and Lady Vindora."

Edmund started, his eyes dilating. Now, that would make for an awkward visit, wouldn't it? His mouth began to water as ideas formed in his mischievous mind. "Yes," he remarked. "Yes, it would, wouldn't it?"

**A/N: I know it's short, but this is just an interlude. Next chapter will be bigger, I should think. Hope you enjoy this! **


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Longer chapter! The fun begins, with more Mary Sue/Gary Stu bashing. Enjoy.**

Chapter Three: A Banquet of Laughter

Supper that evening was an interesting affair. The High King Peter and Queen Susan sat at the head of the long banquet table, with Edmund to Peter's right and Lucy to Susan's left. Lady Delphina sat at Lucy's side, glaring discretely at Edmund while taking sips of wine. Vindora and Falan sat at Edmund's side, in that order.

Occasionally Vindora would cast Delphina a confused glance, as if to say, _Who is _she, _and what is she doing here?_

Delphina glared back, thinking, _Who _is _she_, _and what is she doing here?_

Prince Falan, fortunately, was absorbed in staring at Queen Susan and drooling over her beauty.

Peter was absorbed in keeping his attention diverted from Lady Delphina and Lady Vindora.

Lucy was talking with Susan.

Edmund saw his chance. Keeping his voice low enough that the Lady Delphina could not hear, he began a conversation with Lady Vindora. It went something like this. "The Lady Delphina is quite beautiful, is she not?" (One mental groan attached).

Lady Vindora twitched one dark finger; her lip curled beneath her veil. "Yes, I suppose. Who is she, pray?"

Edmund looked shocked. "Have you not heard? Why, she plans to marry the High King before the next new moon." Lady Vindora gasped appropriately, and Edmund consoled his conscience by telling it that his words were not really a lie: no doubt Lady Delphina did indeed plan on marrying Peter soon. "Yes, it has been planned for months now," he continued, choosing his words with care. "I am surprised that a princess like you had not heard."

"Marriage," Vindora gasped, hardly moving her lips. "But…that can't be!"

_Why, because the High King is 'all yours'? _Edmund thought sarcastically.

Lady Vindora had regained her composure, and now cleared her throat purposefully. "When is this…supposed marriage to be?" she asked, her voice faltering a little.

"Oh…I really wouldn't know," Edmund replied vaguely, looking away with a distant expression.

"Well," Lady Vindora frowned at the sparkling burgundy contents of her wine glass, "Perhaps we could have a double wedding."

Edmund snapped out of his distant expression with reckless haste. "Oh no!" he cried. "I'm much too young for you!"

The lady stared at him as though he had gone out of his mind. In a confused, wondering sort of voice she said, "I meant my brother and Queen Susan."

Edmund blushed, shame-faced. "Oh." He returned to his supper, and kept his distance from her for the rest of the evening.

* * *

After the banquet, Queen Susan managed to convey to her younger sister that the one thing she least wanted to do right then was to entertain Prince Falan. So the poor man—if the dear Reader would deign to pity him—was dragged away from his beautiful, gorgeous, dazzling, lovely, drool-worthy idol by the young queen and taken to some other part of the hall. While being pulled along, he continued to look back over his shoulder and make unintelligent noises meant to convey his protestations. Lucy, however, only thought that he had had too much to eat and was consequently having trouble with his diaphragm. She thought of offering him an herb to help him digest, but decided against it in the nick of time.

Lucy steered him toward a set of doors that led out onto a wide balcony, but he resisted being led out of the room. Apparently he found it impossible to be out of sight of Susan. While Lucy babbled on about commonplace things, he leaned against the wall and kept the elder queen in sight at all times, his eyes beginning to glaze over and his tongue lolling out of his mouth. Suddenly he could hold in his emotions no longer. He let out a tremendous, lovesick sigh and clasped his hands to his heart, moaning, "Ah, her beauty is more than I can bear!"

Lucy stopped mid-sentence, mouth still open, and stared at the prince. Before she could recover herself, Falan was off on a romantic monologue about Queen Susan's outrageous beauty. "…For her eyes are like dark as pools filled with algae, and her mouth is as red as the Tisroc's (may he live forever) beard, and the sound of her name is to me like the sound of the supper gong."

Blinking twice, Lucy murmured, "How…fascinating."

But Prince Falan wasn't half finished yet. He kept going, punctuating his sentences with passionate moans. "When I see her, it is all I can do not to burst into praise of her beauty."

"You don't say?" Lucy sounded interested.

"For indeed, have you ever seen skin more white and smooth? Or teeth that were straighter? And surely the fresh straw of my stables does not compare to the beauty of her flowing hair."

"Oh, you should see her other wig."

"And her…" Prince Falan stopped, only just comprehending what Lucy had said. "Her other…what?"

Lucy drew in a deep breath, worked up her courage, and repeated, "Her wig. Didn't you know she wears a wig?"

The poor prince looked as though his fantasy world had just caved in around him. His mouth worked, but no words were produced. Finally he squawked, "But…the straw!"

Lucy was immediately sympathetic. "Oh, I know, it's hard to bear. A mouse chewed it all off one night while she was sleeping, and since then she's had to wear a wig. But really, it looks much better now."

Prince Falan once more turned hopeful. "Really?"

Lucy nodded, though still keeping a long and sober face. "Unfortunately, yes. Oh look! the dancing has started! Perhaps you would like to dance with m—" But she was too late. Prince Falan, feeling the young queen's grasp on his arm loosen slightly, shot off to find and dance with his beloved Queen Susan. Lucy watched him go, hoping that he wouldn't mention anything about a wig to Susan. Fortunately for the little schemer, no such conversation was broached by the Calormene prince, and the dance seemed to go smoothly.

All was going well, and Lucy smiled deviously and clapped her hands. This was only the beginning of Prince Falan's troubles.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Ai! It's been awhile since I updated. Ran out of ideas for awhile. But, here's Chapter Four. Enjoy!**

**Chapter Four: Shall We Dance?**

"For your eyes, my darling, shine like lamps, and your lips are red as the Tisroc's (may he live forever) beard, and—"

_Aslan's Mane! Hasn't he already said that? _Susan thought, watching carefully where she put her feet and trying not to look at the prince's face. If she did, she knew she would burst out in either laughter or tears.

"Pardon me?"

"And your—" Prince Falan paused and stopped, looking in surprise at the High King, who stood just behind him expectantly. "Yes?"

Peter gestured toward Susan. "May I cut in?"

The Calormene almost asked, "Cut in what?" but the gesture fortunately clarified the High King's meaning, and he relinquished his idol with a mental note of, "How rude these barbarians are."

Susan smiled at Peter through her veil, letting him lead her gracefully about the dance floor. It was good to be able to dance without feeling heavy boots treading on her toes every few seconds. "Thank you," she said after a moment. "You have no idea what a miserable evening I've had, listening to that man blather on."

The High King looked aghast. "I beg your pardon, my lady, but I must contest that those two young women," he pointed to Delphina and Vindora, "are enough to give any man a headache with their talk and perfume."

Susan laughed softly. "Yes, I didn't have to endure that. And a good thing, too: I don't think I could have borne it."

Peter chuckled and smiled fondly at his oldest sister. There was a space of silence between them as their feet glided in quick rhythm across the ballroom floor to the tune of the wild music of the flute. Free and clear and northern it sounded, and Peter felt his heart swell with pride at the sound of it. At last he said what he had been wanting to, his voice slow and measured, as though thinking over each word carefully before he uttered it. "We have been greatly blessed, my sister," he mused aloud, "But, as with all blessings, there comes with it a curse. At times it is hard to bear, at times not so hard. We shall live through it, sister." Here he squeezed Susan's hand, and she smiled at him with sisterly affection.

* * *

Prince Falan was fretting. His dark eyes darted nervously about the room, his eyelids fluttering in his head. From time to time he would mumble almost incoherently: "They simply _can't _dance this next one!" followed by a groan when the northern king and his royal sister did just that.

In his hands the prince held a glass of _mellitis_, a sort of nectar the dryads brought to Cair Paravel, which he was constantly tipping and wobbling and shifting from hand to hand. Once or twice he tipped it far enough for a portion to splash onto his immaculate boots, and a nearby faun winced. Falan, however, never noticed.

"Ghastly, isn't it?" a humorless voice remarked at his elbow. The prince jumped, the liquid splashed, the glass wobbled, and the liquid landed (for the most part) safely back in the goblet.

"Oh!" he said, and "Oh dear," he said again, at last seeing his sticky shoes. He didn't look too crestfallen, which was probably only because he couldn't see the amount of damage done, and only said "Oh!" once more before turning his batty-eyed attention back to his sister. "Having a good time?"

Vindora shook her head viciously with a thick-lipped pout. "Look at him!" she muttered. "By Tash, will he never stop dancing with his sister? Only a Northerner would so neglect his guests."

Prince Falan wiggled a finger at her and made strange rebuking noises in his throat. "Now, now," he shook his head. "When I am king, I'll change everything you want."

Vindora gave her brother a scornful glance. "By the time you are king," she said coldly, "I'll be dead in my grave."

Leaving Prince Falan wondering whether or not to be outraged, Vindora flounced off.

* * *

Like a red, orange, purple and blue striped top, King Edmund and the Lady Delphina spun up and down and sideways across the ballroom floor, keeping away from Peter and Susan. That is to say, Edmund kept away from them, and Delphina was sort of dragged along beside him. The Just talked about law and courts and criminals while he twirled her in wild, sickening circles, but the lady was so engrossed in staring over Edmund's shoulder at the Lady Vindora and gnashing her teeth that she didn't realize she was being bored.

"What does she want?" she snarled at last while biting her lip voraciously—quite a feat, if you've ever done it.

"Hmm?" Edmund paused in his speech to look blank. Actually he looked, as mentioned above, like a spinning blue top, but he tried to look blank. "Whom?"

"That-that _thing!_" Delphina spat.

Of course that explained everything, and Edmund went back to his speech. "As I was saying, the law codes had fallen into great disuse by the time my siblings and I came to power, and I have had to practically reconstruct them all."

"But who _is _she?" Delphina shrieked.

"Whom?"

"That _thing!_" Delphina stamped on Edmund's foot. "Who is she?"

Edmund looked surprised. "Didn't I tell you?"

"No!"

"That's strange: I could have sworn I told you. Huh. As I was saying, I spend a great deal of my time working on the laws—"

"Hang the laws!" Lady Delphina exploded. The whole room heard it and turned wide eyes to the flushed young lady.

Edmund blinked down at her. At length he said, "Was that meant to be a joke, madam?"

Delphina reddened up to her ears. "Uh…Why, yes, of course!" She cleared her throat as they continued to dance and asked again, in a tone that was a little bit more subdued, "So what is that woman doing here?"

"Haven't you heard?"

The young lady quivered with rage. "No," she replied, very slowly and with a great deal of emphasis and grinding of the teeth. "I haven't. And if you don't tell me, I'll—"

"Why, she plans on marrying the High King before the next new moon!"

Delphina never finished her threat. She let out something like a shriek—it had a bit more gurgle to it than a shriek ought to—and pulled her hands out of Edmund's grasp. Unfortunately for her, she had forgotten that they were still dancing and that there was such a thing as inertia and her own momentum sent her sailing into the middle of the ballroom floor. Her cry was definitely a shriek this time.

**A/N: Poor Delphina. She does seem to be bearing the brunt of the mishaps, doesn't she? Oh, but Vindora will have her turn. Oh yes, precious, she will. Ahem.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I own only the suitors. Obviously.**

**A/N: Sorry for the long wait, and thanks for everyone's enthusiastic reviews; I've been busy on an original story of mine, not to mention schoolwork. I won't promise that I'll get another chapter up fast, but I will try.**

It was growing late. The watchman from the eastern tower called out the late hour, and the party began to dwindle. When the guests from other parts of Narnia—fauns, dryads, centaurs and unicorns—had paid their respect to their lord and king and gone their way, Peter escorted Prince Falan to his room. Edmund was left to take care of the two young ladies.

Don't bother to ask me whether or not it was out of pure cruelty that the Just put them in the same room: I simply couldn't say. He just did, and we'll leave it at that.

As he led them down a long passageway to their room, he noted that they were abnormally quiet. He put this down as the fact that they were probably being choked by their conflicting perfumes. With some misgivings he showed them into a beautiful, airy room with windows that faced East, hoping against hope that the women wouldn't stay long enough to leave their scent. "My elder sister's room," he explained.

"Where will she sleep?" Vindora asked. Not that she really cared, but at least she made a pretence of being polite.

Not to be outdone, Delphina ground her thin, high heel into the Calormene's toe and repeated in a higher pitched voice, "Yes, where _will _she sleep?"

"Oh, she sleeps in the stables most nights."

"Oh." That was Delphina.

"She does _what?!" _That was Vindora.

Edmund shrugs. "Sleeps on the barn floor. Says it's more comfortable there. Is there something wrong with that?"

"Um…yes!" Lady Delphina.

"_Wrong?!" _Lady Vindora. "How-how-_barbarian!" _And she ran out of the room to tell her brother all about it.

"Sister?"

Susan paused in directing the servants in the cleanup of the banquet hall and looked over her shoulder at Lucy. "Yes?"

"Talisman asked me to tell you that your little blue roan, Azure, isn't feeling well and would you please go down and look at her?"

Susan straightened from picking up a fallen wine glass and frowned. "What's wrong with her, do you know?"

"Strained muscle, I think," Lucy replied vaguely. "He didn't say, really."

"That's odd: Tal usually tells me personally when something is wrong." Talisman was the Talking Cat in charge of the Royal Stables, and quite a loyal beast he was.

"Oh, it's just that he's so busy," Lucy interjected hastily. "He would come, but I volunteered to tell you, since I was coming over here anyhow."

Susan was satisfied with the explanation, and, after giving the servants some unneeded direction, she left the hall.

* * *

Falan's lip quivered and his small, squinty eyes filled with tears. "She-she does…what?" he wailed.

"She sleeps on the _floor! _In the _straw, _no less!"

Falan whimpered and moaned and paced in obvious disbelief.

"I _told _you that you were marrying a complete barbarian!" Vindora continued. "But do you ever listen to me? No, of course not! Even though I'm a full half-an-hour older than you."

"Oh hush," Falan cried piteously. "I don't believe it."

"Pfft," Vindora replied heartlessly.

"She simply wouldn't do such a thing," Falan continued.

"Nonsense," was the scornful answer.

Prince Falan lost it. He cried, "Oh wiffle!" and went running from the room to see for himself.

He got lost twice on his way to the stables and had to be redirected by the guards, who watched him warily as he ran across the courtyard in the dark. Not that he noticed, though. He didn't even realize that a Talking Leopard and a Mouse were following him at a good distance, careful to keep to the shadows and watching where he went.

As he charged into the stables, such a sight met his teary, shocked eyes. The gentle Queen Susan was kneeling in the straw by a horse's front leg, bending down as though to stretch out on the dirty floor. It could mean nothing but that Vindora had been correct. He let out a shriek, jumped three feet in the air (it would have been farther, but his head sort of caught on the door frame), whirled around and ran from the stables. A startled Susan heard yet another agonized yelp of terror as the prince ran into the two animal guards.

When the poor man had gone, the leopard and the mouse came running in to see what the commotion had been all about, and to protect their queen if need be. "My lady!" the mouse shrilled. "What has happened here?"

Susan blinked up at them from where she sat in the straw. "I was checking on Azure's legs: my sister told me they were sore. Do not ask me to explain what sent that man howling away, though; he must have seen something that startled him." She stood up and brushed the straw from her face. "I'm alright."

The guards escorted her back to the chamber she was staying in and there bid her good night, then went off to guard the halls and laugh privately over Prince Falan's exploits.

* * *

"Move over!" Delphina kicked.

Vindora kicked back. "_You _move over," she snarled. "Imagine going from being a princess in your own land to sharing a room with the daughter of a pig."

"For your information, I happen to like pigs."

"That would be because of the kinship between you."

There was silence in the dark room as Delphina pondered that. Vindora thought maybe she would stay quiet now, but before ten minutes had passed, there came an anguished squeal from the other side of the bed as the insult sunk in, and Delphina shrieked, "How could you?!"

Vindora groaned and smacked her with a feather pillow. She thought about smothering the other woman with the same pillow, but, evaluating her chances of getting the High King to marry her then, she thought better of it and only rolled her out of bed.

She hit the ground with a mighty thump.

She got back up with a mighty squeal.


End file.
